us
by a barely breathing story
Summary: nothing changed - until something did. / for asa (asociality).
1. us

_disclaimed__**.**_

**for:** asa (asociality)  
**prompts:** records, coffee, wings, and "finis vitae sed non amoris (the end of life, but not of love)".  
**genre:** hurt/comfort - without the comfort.  
**proceed with caution:** i've not written in a while; sorry if it doesn't exactly fit your fancy – and that goes to everyone.

**[** the spring '13 fic. exchange **]**

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massie,

you broke my heart, and i want to be able to say that i think you're a heartless bitch, but dammit, i still love you.

for some most likely stupid reason that i have no idea about, i still think about you constantly. i think about your smile, and how your teeth were cute and slightly crooked, but you were adamant about your "no braces" policy. you liked flaws, and your teeth, you said, was one of yours. i think about the freckles that gathered together on the lower right side of your jaw. you thought they made you look more abnormal than usual.

but i wholeheartedly disagree with that. those freckles put more of your personality onto your face, instead of just into your actions and words. i loved gazing at those freckles during the nights where it was just you and me. the nights where nothing else really mattered, because we were together, and i loved you – even now – and you loved me, just not really anymore.

i think about the birthmark you have on your left ankle. i remember when we used to try to come up with its own name – because it was this meaningful blob with a shape of its own somehow and we didn't want to just call it a birthmark. we never did settle on a name; charlie, timmy, samantha noelle – our choices were endless, and i'll always wonder if you decided to name it with someone else. i think about how you never complained about your average height – you embraced it. being short has its advantages, you always chimed. i'm fun-sized!, you would cheer afterwards.

and i love (i wish that would be loved) that about you. you being short gave me an advantage, too. it was easier to put my arm around your shoulders or around your waist, and i would always marvel about how perfectly we fit together. even though that's what all the books say and all the movies describe, it's true. you fit into my arms so well; in the mornings, i always found it difficult to let go of you. i never thought i would let go of you. and i was right, i didn't. you let go of us.

i think about us, too. or, what has become of us. i've told kemp all of this, everything, every single thing, and i expected him to tell me that i'm a pussy and that i need to man up because you're just a girl and give it a few more days and i'll be over you because you were nothing. but he didn't, and you weren't just a girl, and why give it a few more days if it's been a little over four months – shouldn't i have been over you by now? – and you were definitely not nothing. you were more than something in my life for those three years.

three years.

you tossed out three years of us together. was it easy? forget i asked.

i remember the first time you took me to your grandparents' house because it was your birthday and you wanted me there. you were turning twenty-two, and the next day was our seven month anniversary of being us. together. they asked me what i was majoring in (psychology), and if i really thought i could stick it for about eight more years because you know, son, you can't get a nice paying job with that major unless you get your phd (to which i answered that i'll set my mind to it, and get it done). you held my hand while they interviewed (you told me not to call it that) me, and i got through it because it was like i could feel the comfort and warmth and patience radiating from your hand to mine, and it traveled to my heart and my brain and suddenly i wasn't so annoyed with all the questions they were asking because they didn't want me to hurt you any more than you initially already were and i wouldn't want to hurt you ever either.

i think about that night, that same night, that night as in the night of your twenty-second birthday. we stayed up until midnight, not that we hadn't stayed up before, but there was something about our seventh month anniversary that both of us couldn't wait for. as soon as your old clock hit twelve, you turned around in your old full sized bed and faced me and looked me in the eyes and told me you loved me. that wasn't the first time we told each other we loved one another, but that was the first time you said it first. i kissed you on your forehead, and whispered that i love you also, and you should get some sleep because i had big plans for us in the hours to come.

i didn't. they weren't too special plans, but you loved it anyways because you always loved the park, any park. and you were always going to be content with watching movies until suddenly we could see the sun rising and we watched that too, as if it were a movie, our movie.

i think about your hair. it's a kind of shade of brunette red, unless you dyed it. if you did, then i don't know what color it is anymore because i haven't seen you since. but i hope you didn't dye it, because it was – is? – cool that your hair naturally had – has? – red hidden in the brown. maybe your hair is a weird thing to think about, but you told me that you thought it was strange that you never remembered your mom with long hair, and your dad never had long hair, according to pictures, so why did you? and i remember that because we never talked about your parents until later on. after that i made it a point to tell you that your hair is beautiful and you even asked me to learn how to braid so i could braid your hair and i didn't question it. i just spent a couple hours searching youtube with you sitting in front of me so i could practice and lewis watson's voice was singing to us when i finally learned. you congratulated me with kisses that i had become familiarized with. the shape and taste of your lips i wasn't able to get out of my mind for a while.

your eyes. they were this shade of brown that i couldn't quite pinpoint the first few weeks we started talking, until my patience wore out and i just asked you on a warm september evening. amber, you whispered into the night sky, as if speaking normally would've disturbed the comfortable silence between us. a couple days later you pointed out the light green specks acting like little islands in a golden-brown (more golden than brown) ocean, and i was fascinated. you giggled and called me ridiculous. that was our first fake fight, when i semi-tackled you to the floor and started tickling you because you were extremely ticklish and i told you i wouldn't stop until you took back calling me ridiculous. you admitted defeat fifteen seconds or so later.

since then you took every chance you got to tell me i'm ridiculous. later on i learned to counter it by telling you i was ridiculously in love with you.

i think back to how even though we had mutual friends, tons of them, really, we never met each other until kemp introduced us. we went to the same high school and everything, even sat at the same lunch table some days, but we never noticed each other. then we met, and suddenly you were everything i noticed. you were constantly on my mind for days – you had an enigmatic charisma about you, and you were beautiful. so, so beautiful. except it was the kind of beautiful where you don't notice it quite right away. i remember thinking you were beautiful by the way you talked; your mouth forming words that i didn't know, the tone of your voice pure and heavenly. you were beautiful in the way that you got more beautiful as each day passed; with every smile, laugh, and crinkle of your eyes. you were even beautiful when you frowned. i'd imagine you still are beautiful, but i can't really say because the only thing i have are fading pictures and fading memories.

but i think you'll always be beautiful.

do you remember the first time we really, truly, honestly talked about your parents and your past? i do. it was kind of a gloomy day, but completely sunny outside. the gloominess was the atmosphere around us – you were sad, and i was sad because you were sad. you told me everything – from your mom doing drugs and never being there like a mother should, to your father being a magician: completely disappearing once your mom told him the news of her carrying his baby girl. you told me of all the relatives you had to live with while your mom was in rehab, and how they treated you as if you were a priceless artifact that would break any second. you hated it except you never said anything to them because they're the closest thing you ever had to a real family, and they cared about you, and you wanted to know what it felt like – to be cared for. you started crying, then. your voice began cracking moments before, and that's how i knew to gather you in my arms and hold you. not hold you like you were fragile, but just hold you. you cried and cried and i listened and you fell asleep. i carried you to your room in your grandparent's house, tucked you in, then tucked myself in afterwards. i stared at the ceiling. "finis vitae sed non amoris" was painted all over it, written all over your walls, etched onto the wood of your dresser.

"the end of life, but not of love." you explained to me when you woke up hours later, the clock striking two in the morning. it's the end of the life you had – the life you were more than ready to leave behind, the start of a new one. love is endless, you said to me. even if one person doesn't love you, there is one who does to make up for the one who doesn't. and that's more than enough for me, you said, with a smile so small, but so full of hope. you headed off to your dreamland a couple minutes after, which is when i whispered into the four walls of your room, i love you.

i knew you were too far deep into sleep, but i had to say it. to make up for your parents not loving you; not only that reason, but because it's as if it were eating at my heart. it was insane – how could i be in love with someone who i haven't even known for three months or so? or, how could i even be in love? but i was, and i didn't have to think about it to know i was. i just knew.

when did you know you loved me? i'd like to think it was when the gusts of wind hit, when you could find red and brown and orange leaves everywhere, which could only mean one thing: autumn. it was your favorite season, if you had one. you claimed to have a favorite feeling, not season. but you loved the fall. you loved jumping in piles and piles of those colorful leaves, you loved the smell of the rain and walking in the rain without an umbrella and rain in general. i imagine you fell in love with me during autumn, on the day that it was raining so hard, the pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting anything and everything outside could be heard above the neighbor's music that was so loud, trying to drown out the rain. you stayed by my window, curtains drawn, with a mug full of vanilla macadamia coffee (two sugars, one creamer, teaspoon of caramel) in your hands, a blanket made out of so many other blankets wrapped around your shoulders and falling down until it met the cherry wood floor. there was a look so wistful on your face, and i'm not quite sure how i knew, but i took the blanket away from you, i set the mug on the window sill, and i grabbed your hand. you didn't question me, you just followed, and when we reached the front door, i looked back at you to find you sporting a grin. turning the knob, i opened the door, and we stepped out. no umbrella, no raincoats, no shoes. only crazy drivers would've been driving in that kind of weather, so you stepped ahead into the road. at first i was hesitant, but i followed suit. we just stood there, just standing, our heads looking up towards the sky. your eyes were closed, as if you were basking it all in like others would bask in the sunlight. you enveloped me into a hug, and in my ears you mumbled a thank you. i didn't really know what for, but i think of that thank you as an i love you. call me crazy, but it makes me feel happy, just thinking that.

you kissed me then, in the rain. our first kiss. i knew you always wanted it; that was one thing you and all the other girls i knew had in common: the wanting of a cliché, romantic kiss in the rain. but unlike all the other girls, yours happened. it was short and sweet, and no awkwardness followed. you just started walking in circles happily around me – your hair in stringy groups, your feet splashing into puddles.

the smile never left your face that day, even when we went back inside. your eyes were smiling, your lips were smiling. you laughed more that day than i've ever heard you laugh.

it was amazing, and i wanted that day to last forever.

except it didn't – it couldn't. but what followed afterwards was the start of us.

we weren't one of those sickeningly cute couples that no one wanted to be around; we managed to stay us. nothing changed – until something did.

a year had gone by and we were still together. it surprised everyone, just not us. you were the girl with the broken, secret past that had never been in a real relationship before. i was the guy who was skeptical about romance, deemed as romeo by the entire class of twenty-ten, and never had his first kiss 'til you. of course we would hang onto the first spark of love and never let it go. i gave you my old record player, wing earrings, and bob dylan's 'bringing it all back home.' you gave me all the guitar picks you had collected from every famous artist or band you had met, and told me the backstory. you also gave me a torn piece of paper, with the handwritten words: thank you. gus and hazel could have their "okay," and isaac and monica could have their "always." we had our "thank you," two words only said to one another when no other words could be said. it was an infinite two words, uttered into the orange glow of the rising sun, the gray, gloomy skies, the relentless waves of the san francisco bay. it could mean anything; thank you for loving me, for staying, for doing this, for being you. it was another i love you.

what changed? what happened? why did you cut _us_ off? i guess i should stop saying us, because there is none.

but you gave me three years i would never take back. so,

thank you.

todd.

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**asa:** i'm hoping you liked it; i tried to creatively incorporate your prompts, but only you can determine how "creative" it was. i loved your prompts, actually. i had both a fun and sad time writing this!

**everyone else: **thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


	2. the playlist

the playlist –

(i dunno why, but i wanna add this. this is all the songs i listened to while writing us. they're pretty sad, but y'know.)

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[ john mayer ] comfortable (the EP version)

[ lewis watson ] sink or swim & once before

[ south Jordan ] firefly

[ noah and the whale ] blue skies

[ ed sheeran ] sunburn

[ p!nk ] glitter in the air

[ bryan john appleby ] honey jars

[ benton paul ] walls

[ third & union ] no more

[ erick baker ] the last time

[ blake stratton ] i'm gonna be (500 miles)

[ birdy ] just a game

[ johnnyswim ] annie

/

okay, anyways, thanks for reading!


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